Gotta Love Victoria's Secret
by flannelcastiel
Summary: Human AU. In which Dean has a panty kink, and Castiel knows. Sexy times ensue.


_**Rating:**__ M (light NC-17)_

_**Summary:**__ In which Dean has a panty kink, and Castiel knows._

_Written for cupidwithapistol_

_**A/N:**__ Originally posted on AO3. This is a short one-shot that sort of falls into the verse I'm working on called the 94th Floor (read more about it on my tumblr) but it can stand alone. Read and enjoy - and review if you get a chance!_

* * *

The late-night ritual of Dean Winchester was as follows: stumble through the front door with an exasperated sigh, kick off shoes near the entrance of the kitchen (he notices that Castiel hasn't prepared dinner and is silently thankful because he actually had some pizza ordered to his office), loosen tie and then unbutton the top of his collar.

Dean's body aches as he moves through his routine, but he still moves quietly. Cas is probably already asleep and... damn, Dean loved to watch him sleep (admittedly, it was a habit he picked up from Cas; he was curious one night, after waking up too many times with Cas' eyes boring into him. He wanted to know what the hype was all about).

He switches off the light and navigates to the bedroom in the dark, sure that no light would leak into the bedroom. He pauses at the door, noticing that yellow was filtering from beneath it. Huh, Cas must be awake, Dean realizes and pushes the door open, smiling with some odd level of content that came with his new domestic life with his once-best-friend-turned-lover-turned-something-awe some.

'Hey Cas' forms on his lips but falls out of them in an incoherent mumble. What he expects to see: Castiel tucked beneath the comforter, reading glasses falling down his slender nose as he balances a book on the height of his stomach; he would look at Dean and give a small smile before peeling back Dean's side, a smile that was so invitational and warm that Dean's stomach would always explode with warmth.

What he actually sees is... shit.

Instead, Castiel is sitting on the edge of the bed closest to Dean, hands gripping the side of the mattress as if he is about to burst from his seat and he is trying to restrain himself. His legs are folded awkwardly to the side, tan and bare except for the light brown hair that was especially thick on the underside of his calves and the upper part of his thighs, hair that Dean knew was darker if his eyes ventured a little higher...

And higher, Dean realizes as his mouth pops open, the sound harmonious with the twitch of his cock, is a mesh of pink lace and polka dots, silk and a distinct wet spot where a bulge was forming. Dean's eyes remain there for a long moment, until he feels Cas staring at him and their eyes meet.

A million thoughts and questions surge through Dean's mind and through his body, but the only words he can actually bring himself to say are, "Fuck me."

Dean takes a few steps forward, taking in the sight again. Those tight little panties are but the cherry on the whipped cream of the fucking sexy hot pie that was Castiel Novak. From the curve of his waist that led to a distinct string of muscle along the apex of his chest, to the pink on his cheeks as he stared almost shyly up at Dean, to his lips that were swollen as if they hungered for kisses.

Inaction is slowly killing Dean, so he decides that unbuttoning his pants is the best possible thing for him to do at the moment. He feels his lips curling, eyes not leaving Cas', and he wonders if it is animalistic. His jerky movements and almost violent attempts to remove his pants made Cas squirm out to the edge of the bed a little more.

"This for me?" Dean huffs, stepping out of his pants and closing the distance between him and Castiel—but not touching him. Cas nods quickly, leaning back into the bed. Dean moves closer and Castiel is completely laying, gazing up at Dean curiously. Cas is oddly quiet and Dean wonders if he is uncomfortable—hell, Dean isn't even sure why Cas is dressed in lingerie and acting like a little school boy and Dean was the principal—but Dean decides he likes it. Their sex life, since its birth, had been oddly adventurous, even for Dean. Cas wasn't dumb, but he knew that Dean had introduced him to many different kinks and positions...

"Why?" Dean asks, pressing his knees into the side of the mattress, on either side of Cas' body. Dean sees him swallow.

"Because I know you—you like it."

Dean quirks an eyebrow at Cas' response; it seems that Cas believed the best way to explain his thoughts was by taking his hand and pushing it down his own chest, stomach, and settling on top of his bulge. Dean groans, even though he really tries to hold it in, as he watches that hand roll against the fabric. Dean knew that sensation, from a place deep in his past, and wondered where Dean got the idea—

v^√√v^──√v^√v^──√v^√√v^──

_"Ah, Victoria's Secret," Castiel sighed and shook his head as they stared at the store window. Slender mannequins with anorexic figures were adorned with slinky little bras, all of which probably had more padding than the girls meant to wear them had boobs. "Never have I seen such a revolution of the objectification of women._

_"Come on, the angel supermodels are hot," Dean chided, elbowing Cas as he tried not to stare too hard at the underwear inside._

_"I do not find women attractive, Dean," Castiel reminded him with slight impatience and—jealousy? "You're the bisexual one in this relationship."_

_"Right." Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Cas, shielding the small bit of shyness that was unintended but he did not want Castiel to see. He tilted his head toward the display. "So you can't imagine a guy in any of that—er, get-up?"_

_"Not particularly," Cas answered and narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"_

_Dean reddened slightly. "Nothing!" He raised his hands up, a surrender. Castiel smiled gestured for Dean to follow. "Just making sure you're not into drag queens...ya know..."_

_"You are acting strange. I believe I should purchase a caffeinated drink to wake you up."_

_Dean could go with that excuse. "Yeah, man. You should think twice before dragging me out at eight in the morning on a Saturday just so you can redeem your stupid Pottery Barn coupon."_

_"We needed a new coffee table," Castiel explained, sounding hurt. "It was you and _your_ feet that soiled our last one." Dean's lips twitched._

_"Haha, right." Dean snorted. "But it was you who, you _know_—" Dean spoke quieter. "Wanted to get fucked on it. I think that is what broke it, babe." Looking from the corner of his eye, Dean saw red blush creeping across Cas' cheeks. "You can make it up to me," Dean said in a low voice. He was walking closer to Cas now, closer than they usually walked in public. He leaned, pressing his lips to Cas' ear and whispering. "Seeing you squeeze into a tight little pair of panties would _totally_ make my year."_

v^√√v^──√v^√v^──√v^√√v^──

Dean's chest warms as he remembers that day—not only had Cas remembered, but he must have ventured inside that store. He could almost see Cas, sexy and nervous (complete oxymoron on any other person, dude or chick, but incredibly possible and hot on Cas) strolling through the lingerie section, eying the thin pieces of fabric. Dean takes his hand and runs it up Cas' leg, stopping when he reaches the lower region of his thighs and he strokes the lace there. He wonders if Cas picked the lace for any particular reason, except that the texture would elicit more friction, especially if Dean's dick rubs against it—

Cas gasps as Dean's fingers leave the safety of his thighs and touch the bulge. Even though he is barely being touched, Dean can feel the throbbing of Cas' cock and knows that he is deriving some sort of sick pleasure just from Dean's gaze upon him.

"You look so good like this Cas," Dean murmurs, his fingers drifting to the waistband of the panties. They seem to have a thin strip of elastic, so when he plucks it, it snaps softly against Cas' waist and he whelps, not from pain but from... Dean didn't know. The sound was just hot and he wanted to hear it again. "I want to keep these on you until they're dripping with both of our come."

"Yes," Cas groans, raising his hips and nudging against Dean's hand harder. Feeling a little needy himself, Dean removes his hand and simply presses his hips down, becoming level with Cas in a heartbeat. Through his boxers, they rubbed together; Cas' hands now were playing at the waistband of Dean's underwear. Dean assisted by swiveling his leg up, so that the only thing between them was Dean's shirt.

That came off quickly too. Cas was surprisingly touchy and got off from simply Dean allowing him to touch his chest, his nipples. And Dean was one hundred percent okay with that.

Cas started to make these little sounds, little sounds that caught between his teeth and snarled up his throat and bubbled softly on his swollen lips all at once. Dean wanted to swallow those noises, so he dives down, covering Cas' mouth with his own and consumed him in every sense of the word. He tightly grips Cas around the narrowest part of his stomach, holding him to the bed as he continues to rock, releasing breathy noises of his own. Now they are just two halves of a needy whole, and he is so friggin' close he could feel all the blood in his body throbbing, migrating to his lowest region and leaving his brain dry and all coherent thought miles away.

"Am I—" Cas breathes, half a question, which Dean unintentionally muffles. He groans as their lips break apart and Cas continues, "Am I cute enough for you Dean?"

Dean almost spills himself in that moment as the innocent question flows off parted, puffy lips. A growl ripples through him as his hands dive lower, spreading across Cas' cheeks and the underwear that had slid just between his crack due to the desperate rocking of his hips. Cas squirms and mewls as Dean's fingers dig into skin. "You are so cute, so pretty for me," Dean manages and nearly collapses onto Cas' chest as his lips venture to his ear. "So fucking sweet...so hot...baby, you're—"

His hips surge downward just as Cas squirms, raising his pantied hips to Dean's and he is lost. They are both lost, Dean can barely think as his load splashes across Castiel's chest, painting that warm tan skin a shade of white. The wet spot on those silky underwear grows and Dean just rocks his hips with eyes wide open, riding out the boons of pleasure as he watches Castiel reach his own peak.

It was when Dean rolled and collapsed beside Cas that he finally breathed again, gasping for a breath he didn't know he'd been holding out on. He felt damp fingers press to the center of his chest, making him open his eyes again, only to meet a shocking blue stare.

Cas is smirking. "So I'm pretty?" he says in an even monotone, so assuming that Dean blushes. He realizes that the words that sent him over the edge were part of the scene, the role they fell into. Dean doesn't know if he's impressed or about to have another hard-on; Castiel had never been into games before.

"Fucking cute," Dean snaps, pursing his lips. Cas simply chuckles and rolls over to place a precise and totally Cas-like kiss on his lips. Not sloppy, not needy, just full and pure in a way that Dean's insecurities melted.

"Mhm," Cas mumbles against his lips, and Dean can feel the smile on them as he kisses back. "I love you, Dean."

"Me too," Dean says back, showing his affection by giving Cas' ass a generous squeeze. And damn, he doesn't just feel skin, but soft silk and rough lace that sends a throb straight to his groin. "And Victoria's Secret."


End file.
